


Pain

by Loki_ate_my_pudding



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bullying, Depression, Drug Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Mental Instability, Physical Abuse, Sad, Sad Peter, Sad Wade, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 06:19:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11938122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_ate_my_pudding/pseuds/Loki_ate_my_pudding
Summary: All Peter felt was pain.





	Pain

**Author's Note:**

> This is really a hard story for me to write, and the whole thing is a massive trigger for bullying, self destructive behavior, and suicide, but I really enjoyed writing it.

Peter Parker wasn't a stranger to pain. 

He wasn't a stranger to the feeling of emotional and physical suffering that couldn't be described in any other word aside from pain. He was rather accustomed to the feeling, and when it got too bad, the feeling of nothing at all. 

It started when Peter was five. 

His first meet up with pain was when he saw his parents leave him. When his mother kissed his head before walking out the door with his father. He didn't understand why it hurt him so badly, and he didn't understand why it made him cry. Aunt May had to hold him until he fell asleep from exhaustion the first night, and the second night wasn't too much better, but after a while, the pain wasn't there anymore. 

Peter didn't feel pain again for a while, but when he was eleven, he felt it hit him full force. 

He understood a bit more now. Peter was a really smart kid, helping out Ben with his cars, and easily passing all of his tests with 100s. He tried to avoid stressful situations as much as he could.

 He couldn't avoid the situation when uncle Ben died. 

He couldn't help but blame himself when the shot rang through the street and Ben's body hit the ground, blood pooling around him on the sidewalk at Peter's feet, staining the pavement an ugly shade of red. Ben told him to hurry up and he didn't go fast enough, and now his lifeless body was sprawled out on the ground in front of him. He couldn't help it when he screamed and dropped to his knees, trying to press his hands against the hole in Ben's chest, and he sobbed to himself, holding his uncle's lifeless body until he heard sirens. 

Peter felt like he could never forget the look on May's face when the police brought him home that night, and he had to face her, covered in Ben's blood. He'd never forget the cries he heard from the room over when he sat on the floor of the tub, letting the boiling water from the shower cascade over him. He just stared blankly at the side of the tub until the water ran cold, then forced himself to turn the nob to a little higher of a hot setting, and scrub at his skin. 

His arms and hands felt on fire from how rough he'd scrubbed at the bloodstains, but Peter could still see the red on his skin. He could still feel the warm liquid covering him as he cried for Ben to be okay. 

He was only eleven, but he knew how pain felt, and it felt a lot like that. The pain didn't really go away after that moment. 

He'd gone throughout middle school with a blank stare, acing his tests without even trying, and not making or maintaining friendships. May was worried about him, and after taking him to three doctors, a therapist, and a psychologist, he was diagnosed with severe chronic depression, and some anxiety disorder he couldn't remember the name of at age 13.

He took enough medicine to make a sane person high off their ass, and still maintained his previous lifestyle. If anything, he'd say that the medicines only made his days seem longer, and only slightly more filled with color.

He sat alone at lunch in Midtown high school until Wade Wilson came along, just another troubled teen with no friends, and no place to sit in lunch. Peter didn't complain when Wade sat across from him in the back of the cafeteria with a small, but confident smile. 

"I'm Wade Wilson, and I think that you're a better sight then ten hundred taco supremes from Taco Bell." And Peter smiled, but Wade Wilson and his flirty remarks didn't cure Peter's relentless depression. 

Flash Thompson was an exact example of a person from Peter's nightmares, a taller, older, stronger boy, deciding to find Peter in the hallways whenever there was an extra second to spare, also deciding to make his life a living hell during every moment in school. The older kid had hands that felt like bricks when they hit Peter's skin. He had felt that felt like knives when they kicked at his abdomen. He spoke words that felt like disease, going in his ears and filling his mind, pushing everything good away. 

Peter tried to get it to stop, but all he felt was pain. 

He only felt pain when Flash's punches landed on his cheekbones and his jaw. He only felt pain when Flash's kicks landed against his sides and chest. He only felt pain when he tried to stand after another beating, and he could practically feel the bruises blossoming on his pale skin. 

Sometimes he was lucky enough to be spotted by a kind hearted student who helped him to the nurses office, but usually he had to get up on his own. He was used to it. 

His relationship with Wade grew, and the two were relatively happy together. Wade always asked about his bruises and Peter tried his hardest to come up with obscure lies every time it was mentioned. He couldn't let Wade think he was weak. 

And Peter truly wanted to say that his life was going good. He had aunt May and Wade by his side, good grades, and if he kept it up, he could easily slip right into Harvard's dm's and snag a grade A scholarship, but his mind kept wandering back to the familiar feeling of pain and sadness. He was desperate to drown it out. 

At the age of seventeen, Peter invested in a fake ID, and started taking weekly treks to the local liquor store. Getting drunk was an easy thing to do without May noticing, seeing as all he did once he downed half a bottle of vodka was cry and write essays on why humans should interfere with the Sea Lion's consumption of Penguins. He enjoyed drinking. His mind was off his inner turmoil as much as it could be while he took Friday and Saturday nights to finish up a bottle or two of some of the good ass vodka. 

But sober Peter knew that his drinking problem would catch up to him eventually. 

He tossed the thought around in his head about starting to take his anxiety medicine in a double dosage and see if he could get himself high enough to forget that he was so sad, but he realized that May would notice she was refilling his prescription every fifteen days instead of every thirty. 

Peter had come to terms a few days after he turned eighteen that he would permanently live with pain and sadness. He moved out of May's house and moved in with Wade, so he'd be closer to college, and he realized he'd have to give up drinking to live with his boyfriend. He decided that it would probably be better if he stopped anyway. 

A month after graduating high school and moving in with Wade and applying for college, Peter lost aunt May. 

His heart stopped when he heard the news, eyes almost instantly filling with tears, and he broke down in the middle of the living room, collapsing to the floor in a ball of sobs and sadness, and he knew he'd never be able to feel even remotely as happy as he once was. It was the thought of possible happiness in the future that kept him going since he was eleven, and now that the possibility of being as happy as he was in fifth grade was gone, he didn't feel like he had a reason to keep going aside from Wade Wilson. Wade held him tight and whispered sweet words into his ear when he needed to calm down, and it always worked. Wade was Peter's lifeline, and he clung onto him for years. 

When Peter was twenty four, his husband was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Both Peter and Wade took the news horribly, and spent the next three days cuddled up together before they even thought about going back to the doctor to discuss the possibilities of treatments. Wade was only given a year to live. 

The only thing that Wade Wilson wanted to do before he died, was to truly make Peter Parker happy. 

The two went on a date to their favorite restaurant, baked pumpkin spiced cookies, and snuggled up in big sweaters and the most comfortable comforter they owned to watch movies. Wade achieved his only goal in life, and he was happy to see pure happiness on Peter's face for the first time, and he decided he would die a happy man. 

Peter loved every last moment he shared with Wade in his last year, the two impossibly close, always touching in some way, and almost always smiling. Peter loved Wade. 

And when Wade Wilson died four or five months after Peter turned twenty five, Peter never felt so much sadness and pain. 

He truly felt like the world had been against him since day one. He felt like every waking moment of his life was just suffering unless it was the last year he spent with Wade. His whole life was gone. He had no happiness, no family, no friends, nothing. And Peter didn't see a point in living his life anymore.He wished that he'd felt more happiness than he did, but he was thankful for what he received. His happiness came in the best form - May Parker, and Wade Wilson. 

He was twenty five when he finally let go. He didn't get drunk or high in his last moments, only thought about the few people he loved. 

-

_"Baby boy, let me tell you, they have some bomb ass tacos here!" Wade shouted in excitement, blue eyes shimmering with pure happiness._

_"Wade, calm down, he's only just arrived, give him some time. Welcome, dear." May's voice was soft and comforting as usual, and she only expressed pure happiness too._

_"It's been a while Peter, I've missed you." Ben was smiling too._

_And Peter was truly happy again.  
_

_"Care to take me to those tacos?"_

_"Fuck yeah! See, May? Told you he'd want some tacos!"_

**Author's Note:**

> I hope the ending makes it a little better...


End file.
